Kaelen stepped closer to the spice stall, lowering his voice. "What kind of alliance are we talking about?"
The old woman leaned forward, the scent of kava root and peppered smoke clinging to her breath. "The market has many hands, but only one that can reach into every shadow — the Knotted Veil. They don't show themselves to strangers… unless someone vouches for you."
Her obsidian eye gleamed. "I'll be that someone. In return, you'll carry a token for me — one you'll deliver when I say, to whoever I say. No questions, no delays."
Kaelen's fingers curled into his palm. A favor owed in the Hollow Market was worth more than gold — and could cost far more. "And if I say no?"
The woman shrugged. "Then your friend walks the Ash Road alone."
He didn't need more persuasion. "Fine. I'll take the deal."
Her grin widened, and she drew a small, leather-wrapped bundle from beneath the stall. She didn't open it — just pressed it into his hand. It was unnervingly cold, as if it had been sitting in deep shadow.
"Follow the smell of burnt myrrh," she whispered. "They'll find you before you find them."
Kaelen obeyed, weaving through the crooked alleys. Soon the air grew thick with a strange, resinous smoke. A figure emerged — hooded, face hidden behind knotted strips of dark cloth, moving with a silence that seemed unnatural.
"You've been spoken for," the figure said in a voice like rustling paper. "We can deliver you to the Bone Mask. But once we do… your debt begins."
Kaelen nodded, though a part of him knew this was the moment his freedom truly started slipping away.
The figure extended a gloved hand. "Then take my shadow."
Kaelen clasped it — and the world around him instantly folded into black.